


Harry's Family

by MusicalFangirl00193



Series: National Days [26]
Category: Kingsman (Movies), Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Gen, I shoved way too many headcanons into this, James Moriarty is a good parent, Kid Fic, Kidnapping, M/M, but oh well, i enjoyed it, more to come - Freeform, probably
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-10
Updated: 2017-10-10
Packaged: 2019-01-15 12:37:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,328
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12321234
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MusicalFangirl00193/pseuds/MusicalFangirl00193
Summary: Harry knew his fathers weren't good men. He knew that when his Ma came home, smelling of acrid smoke and fresh blood, and he knew it when his Pop was gone for days on end, only to return with souvenirs of his trip from far away and a promise to tell Harry what had happened when he was older. Harry knew his fathers weren't good men, but that didn't mean he loved them any less.





	Harry's Family

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, apparently I messed up my dates somewhere because this was written for National Chess day, which is the 14th, not the 9th.
> 
> So instead, this is for National Kick Butt Day: http://nationaldaycalendar.com/national-kick-butt-day-second-monday-in-october/
> 
> Sequel/companion/prequel to Meet the Family.
> 
> A lot of my headcanon for James' relationship with Harry here comes from the collection [Moran Family Values](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/moranfamily/works), except Harry is a bit less messed up than Siobhan.

Harry Hart was seven when he met Hamish Watson-Holmes. They had both gotten in trouble at school and were waiting to speak to the headmaster about their punishments. By the time the headmaster stepped out of his office to reprimand both boys, they had become best friends and would never be separated again, each the brother the other never had.

* * *

Harry was seven and a half when his Ma found out about Hamish. The dark haired man laughed for nearly ten minutes and Pop ruffled Harry's hair, looking fondly at the both of them. “You've got to be careful Harry,” his Pop said, kneeling in front of Harry and looking him seriously in the eye. “You know Ma and I have enemies.” Harry nodded, because he did, they’d come to the house to try and take him once, they hadn't even gotten to the floor Harry's bedroom was in before Ma found them and put them in the soundproof room he thought Harry didn't know about. “Hamish’s fathers are some of them.”

“Does this mean I can't be friends with Hamish anymore?” Harry asked because Hamish may be his brother in all but blood, but he’d do anything for his dads.

“Of course not my little butterfly collector,” his Ma said, pressing a kiss to the top of Harry's head. “You just be careful, sweetheart, you never know what your Uncle Sherlock would do if he found out about you.”

“I'll be careful Ma,” Harry promised, with all the earnestness in his body.

* * *

Harry met Hamish’s Da and Pop three days later.

“You don't need to be so nervous Harry,” Hamish laughed. “It's just my das.”

“I know,” Harry murmured, and he did, he’d read the entirety of John’s blog in the past three days, he knew everything about Hamish’s das, and how they knew his own. “It's nice to meet you Dr. Watson, Mr. Holmes.”

“So polite,” John laughed. “Nobody's called me Dr. Watson in a long time, it's John, Harry, just John. And he's Sherlock.”

“No,” Sherlock countered, “You can call me Mr. Holmes, Mr. Moriarty.”

“My name is Hart,” Harry told him. “Ma didn't want the link that easily made. He didn't account for my making friends with a Holmes.”

Sherlock snorted before turning on his heel and walking away.

“Is he always that dramatic?” Harry asked.

“Yes,” Hamish and John both sighed.

“I'd say you should probably expect a visit from my uncle soon,” Hamish added, “But I'm not sure how that’d work, with your Ma.”

“Do you really think James Moriarty would give your Uncle Myc more than two seconds pause?” John asked dryly. 

“Probably not,” Hamish agreed.

“You're not going to try and use me against my das?” Harry asked quietly.

“You're a good boy, Harry,” John shook his head. “The sins of the father should not be lain on the son. Just because you are James Moriarty’s son does not mean you are our enemy.”

“Does Da know that though?” Hamish asked petulantly.

“He will eventually,” John promised. “Are your fathers expecting you home soon? Mrs. Hudson made dinner if you want to stay.”

Harry considered it for a moment. “My Ma probably already knows I’m here.”

“Of course he does,” John agreed. “So why shouldn’t you stay?”

“Mrs. Hudson’s a really good cook,” Hamish offered.

“I suppose,” Harry agreed, “Pop said I need to be home before seven though.”

“We can handle that,” John said with a nod. “You boys go wash your hands, alright?”

“Yes Pop,” Hamish said, leading Harry away to the bathroom.

* * *

Harry woke up with a headache. He sat up slowly, taking in the room. It was small, square and just big enough for a bed and a toilet with a wash basin on top, and entirely cement with a metal door on one wall.

“Hello?” he called out, fingers feeling the walls carefully. “Is anyone there?”

“Harry?” 

“Hamish!” Harry stood on his bed to reach the air vent over it. “Where are we?”

“I don’t know,” Hamish responded. “I just remember that we were walking to 221B from school with the girls and now I don’t know where we are, I think we got knocked out.”

“Bloody hell,” Harry sighed, flopping down onto the bed.

“You shouldn’t curse Harry,” Hamish grumbled. “Da says cursing is a sign of lower intelligence.”

“Your da is full of it sometimes,” Harry retorted. 

“Well so is yours,” Hamish retorted.

“I know,” Harry agreed. “How are we going to get out of here?”

“Our parents will find us.”

“I don’t want to wait for our das,” Harry exclaimed. “We’ll never become anything if we always wait for someone to save us.”

Harry could hear Hamish taking a deep breath before he responded. “Alright, what do you see in your room?”

Harry looked around the room, describing the room, fingers running over the walls.

“Okay,” Hamish sighed, “Here’s what we’re going to do.”

* * *

“NSY, put your hands up!”

“You’re late Uncle Greg,” Hamish said, barely looking up from the chess board he and Harry had found.

“You’re cheating!” Harry accused.

“No, I’m just better than you are,” Hamish countered. “You’ve only been playing for half an hour.”

“I dislike you,” Harry grumbled, resting his forehead against the board.

“No you don’t,” Hamish said with a terrifyingly bright smile. “How long has it been Uncle Greg?” he asked, standing up.

“You’re late for school,” Greg answered. “Although, your Pop isn’t likely to let you out of his sight for the next week.”

“And my parents?” Harry asked.

“Bloody terrifying,” Greg snorted. “I’ve never seen the two of them in a room together without the entire building exploding.”

“Gregory, what have I told you about cursing in front of the children?” John came around the other man. “Hamish, Harry, are you boys alright?”

“We’re fine, Poppa,” Hamish let his father wrap him in a hug. “Where’s Da?”

“He’s outside with your Uncle Jim,” John said. “There may be a hole in the pavement when we get outside if we don’t hurry.”

Harry nodded, weaving his way through the crowd of policemen in the warehouse.

“Harry!” was all the warning Harry got before his Ma had him wrapped in a hug. 

“Oh my God, Harry,” James held the boy close to his chest. “You can’t do that to us.”

“I’m sorry Ma,” Harry murmured, holding James as tight as James was holding him. “I didn’t mean to.”

“I know,” James pressed a kiss to the top of his head. “I know my sweet boy.”

“Does this mean you’re not going to let me see Hamish anymore?” Harry’s voice was muffled against James’ chest.

“No,” James said, looking over Harry’s head at Sebastian. “I know that wouldn’t do any good, it would probably hurt you more than anything. I do want you to be safe though, so you’re going to start taking some lessons.”

“What kind of lessons?”

“The kind I’ve wanted you to be taking for the past three years,” Sebastian said from behind Harry. “You’re going to learn how to defend yourself.”

“I wanted you to do what you wanted to do my little butterfly collector,” James murmured. “But I also want you to be safe.”

“Okay,” Harry nodded.

“There’s my boy,” Sebastian ruffled a hand through Harry’s hair.

“I want to go home,” Harry mumbled into James’ chest.

“I’ve cleared everything with Lestrade,” Sebastian said. “Car’s this way.”

“Hamish cheats at chess,” Harry yawned as his das led him to the car.

“He learned from Mycroft then,” James said. “Sherlock doesn’t play and John doesn’t cheat.”

“I’m tired.”

“You can sleep in the car my little collector,” James promised. “It’s a long ride back home.”

“Okay,” Harry murmured, letting James herd him into the car, his fathers on either side of him as their driver pulled away. “I like Hamish,” he murmured. “He’s a good brother, even if he cheats at chess.”

James laughed, “I’m glad of that love, I really am.”

**Author's Note:**

> Not beta'd, not British, and I don't own Kingsman or Sherlock


End file.
